


Winter's War

by Aguilar_De_Nerha_Assassin_First_Rank



Series: A Destiny of Ice and Fire [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Definitely a work in progress, Don't Judge Me, F/M, Gen, Have a Good Day, Jon Snow knows nothing, Jon/Dany is the only ship i will do here, Many of these characters are referenced, Might Be Boring, P.S, Please Don't Hate Me, Please Don't Kill Me, Save Me, Some later characters will be the descendants of season 7 characters, The tags are sentient now, The tags should stop now, This will be very long, Why Did I Write This?, and remember, even though it is way overdone, for saying that, hang in there, how do i end this, my first fanfic and my first GOT fan fic, please enjoy, there will never be any incest, too many tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-01-15 15:54:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12324165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aguilar_De_Nerha_Assassin_First_Rank/pseuds/Aguilar_De_Nerha_Assassin_First_Rank
Summary: Jon Snow is returning to the North after his somewhat successful attempt to gain Lannister support for the Long Night. Unbeknownst to him, the Night King has already broken the Wall atop his Wight Dragon, Viserion. Winter has finally come for Westeros. But can the Seven Kingdoms unite long enough to stop him, and herald in the Spring?





	1. Return to Winterfell

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of the characters you see in the Tags are referred to by others in conversation, i will eventually do POV chapters for some of them. This work is kind of a mix of ASOIAF and GOT cannons, for example, Arya is in Winterfell like in the show, but Stannis is still alive like in the books. This is my first ever fanfic, once i've gotten a decent amount of chapters done, i will begin part two. Thank you for your time, please enjoy and have a good day/night/afternoon/morning/evening.

The cold was harsher than Jon could remember. Even at the Wall, the weather had not been so biting. ‘So winter really has come.’ Jon thought. ‘Now there are so few Starks left to hold it back.’. Sansa was alive, he knew that much. And she had strength. If it wasn't for her and Baelish, they would have all fallen to the Bolton army . On the streets however, her name was cursed as much as Theon Greyjoy’s. Only time would tell if she could be accepted as a leader. Of Arya, no one knew, not since she left. Bran was rumored to have died a while ago, North Of the Wall. Robb was dead, slain by House Frey at the Red Wedding. He had wept openly at that dire news. But worst of all was Rickon’s demise. ‘I could have saved him. I should have. He’s too young to belong in a tomb. But there he rests, alongside his forefathers. All because i wasn't fast enough’ He thought bitterly, pounding his fist against his leg while fresh tears began to fall. Daenerys took notice, drawing her horse closer. ‘Something troubles you.’ ‘Aye. The memory of my family. I could have been there, saved them. But where was i? Up at the bloody Wall leading a band of thieves and rapers who turned on me when i tried to do the right thing. I was weak enough not to see how that was going to go, weak enough to have left for the Wall in the first place, weak enough to let my little brother die in my arms-’ Jon’s voice broke, his eyes watering again. Dany cupped his face with her hand. ‘Yet you were strong enough to return to this world Jon. You returned and kept fighting. Do not keep blaming yourself for things you could not have prevented.’ ‘You are right. But i will never stop seeing the bodies when i close my eyes.’

The conditions made the going difficult, and after a few hours, a rest was called. Tyrion had decided to spend the time reading an old leather-bound tome on the history of the Wall. He had just uncorked his skin of finest Highgarden Red, when Jon burst unceremoniously into the tent. ‘May i ask why you have chosen now to interrupt the research that you yourself suggested i undertake to better our chances of winning the coming war?’ Tyrion said  
‘Is it necessary to undertake research while attempting to drink your own weight in wine?’ ‘Entirely.’ They both burst out laughing.  
‘How are you my friend?’  
‘Still a dwarf, and still thoroughly inebriated, so fine i suppose. In all seriousness though, what did you want to see me for?’  
‘I came to see if you had made any progress. And to talk.’  
‘Well Jon, if you want progress, you will have to stop checking to see if i have made any every time we stop riding. I can talk though. Wine?’  
‘No thanks. I haven't the heart for drink tonight.’  
‘Haven’t the heart? I seem to remember a boy who got so drunk he collided face-first with a serving-girl’s tits before he made it two steps towards the door.’  
Jon laughed. ‘I must have looked so stupid. No wonder the knights laughed at me.’  
‘I laughed at you. But let us not reminisce about the past, no matter how funny it may be. How is our Queen?’  
‘As the Hand, i would have thought you would know that.’  
‘As her lover, i would have thought you would know better.’  
‘Lover? You jest Tyrion.’  
‘I saw you knock on the door to her quarters three days ago. I saw her let you in. One can only assume that something occurred between you, or did that woman Melisandre take your balls when she brought you back to life?’  
‘How did you-’  
‘Stairwell.’  
‘Oh. And no, my balls are still there. That’s Theon you’re thinking of.’  
‘Brilliant. Now we have the great ball dilemma out of the way, you still haven't answered my question.’  
‘To be honest, i’m not entirely sure.’ Jon said, finally sitting down. ‘She has seemed slightly more anxious than usual.’  
‘Borne no doubt, out of the loss of her dragon.’  
‘Aye. This concerns me as well.’  
‘Why should it?’  
‘Because the Night King might have that dragon. He can bring back the dead, i saw him raise everyone we lost at Hardhome. You were there when the queen invaded, you saw what dragons are capable of. Your brother lost a full army to them and the Dothraki. And the North does not have many good men left. When the Boltons defected, they took House Umber, House Karstark and quite a few others with them. Whatever’s left of that force is holed up in the Dreadfort. All of the Northern Houses lost someone at the Red Wedding, Robb’s whole army got slaughtered. Where does that leave us? A handful of wildlings, less than five hundred northerners and the Vale cavalry. Nowhere near enough to defeat the Army of the Dead.’  
‘Have you already forgotten about Daenerys’s army? The Dothraki alone number eighty thousand. Then there‘s the Unsullied. We still have a number between five and seven thousand who can march North if we should need them.’  
‘The Dothraki are still riding North. They will not be here in time if something should happen to the Wall.’  
‘The Wall has stood for three thousand years, why do you think it will fall precisely when we are at our weakest? That is the realm of stories Jon.’  
‘So were the White Walkers, and i nearly got killed by one. As for the Unsullied, they are stuck at Casterly Rock, the Lannisters have their largest army besieging them.’  
‘That is my brother’s army. With any luck he will bring them North alongside the Unsullied.’ ‘It is not your brother i worry about. Your sister said she would not hamper our progress, she said nothing about actually helping us. I’ll bet she’s got all her other forces around King’s Landing, waiting for us to perish so she can sweep up and take our lands.’  
‘No doubt that is her plan. Cersei always was like that. But Jaime understood the full nature of the undead threat, and it is Jaime who i believe will come. He commands more respect from the men, they will follow him.’  
‘Maybe you are right. But it still does not make me feel better knowing that most of our forces are still south of the Trident and that we are utterly defenceless until they arrive.’  
‘It weighs heavily on my thoughts as well. But there's not much we can do save wait. Now, if you don’t mind, i shall continue my research.’  
‘Of course. Happy drinking Tyrion.’ With that, Jon left.

Lucias, a boy of the Night’s Watch, former heir of House Harwood, was dying. He had been one of the very few survivors of the Night King’s assault on the Wall at Eastwatch. He had heard Tormund’s warning while in the lift heading to the ground, and had forced the door open in order to risk the jump. He had survived, crawled onto a horse and had began riding as fast as possible in the direction of Winterfell, when the Wall came down. The small group running behind him had stopped to watch as the only barrier between them and the Army of the Dead came down, but Lucias had barely managed a look over the shoulder, knowing that he had to get out alive or Westeros would have no warning of what was coming. The Night King, seeing a rider and knowing that the element of surprise would be taken if he allowed the man to escape, personally threw an ice javelin at him. It had made impact with his leg almost at the hip and nearly ripped the limb clean off. One more inch to the right and the femoral artery would have broken, killing him. But he lived, and he kept going. 

After three days and a lot of blood, Lucias could see the walls of Winterfell. His vision darkening, he knew he would not last much longer. HIs mount seemed to understand the importance of reaching journey's end however, and bore him as fast as his exhausted legs could carry. Sansa was on the battlements, watching Arya spar with Podrick in the yard below, when a cry came up from the lookouts. A rider was coming. Knowing this was probably unfavourable news, she sent word to Brienne of Tarth and Gendry, ordering them to the gate, then ran down herself. By the time the rider had entered, the group had been assembled. The horse drew to a halt, the rider stirred, moved slightly, and fell straight out of the saddle. Sansa, along with most of those present rushed forward to try and help, but were cut short when he began to speak.  
‘Don’t try. To get me up. Leg’s buggered.’  
‘You are of the Night’s Watch. Why did you not stop and get someone to treat your leg?’  
‘No time. Bastards were right behind me. Only lost sight of them yesterday. Forgive me milady, but i don’t have long. We don’t have long before-’ Lucias said, coughing up blood. The five broken ribs were starting to catch up with him.  
‘Before they arrive. The Others. I was going down, to run an errand for the Lord Commander, when i heard the strangest cracking sound. We heard Tormund yelling from up top, we knew we had to get out. I got the doors open first. Poor fuckers. I got to a horse, rode out. Then the Wall fell. It was a bloody dragon milady. A real dragon. Someone got me with some sort of arrow-like thing. That’s what took me leg. I tried to flee, they kept on me the whole time. Lost sight of them yesterday. But they are coming. You need to run. Everyone here needs to run. We couldn't hold them, you lot sure as shit aren't going to.’  
‘How much time do we have?’  
‘Don’t know. A day, an hour. All i know is that you don’t have long. Watch for a blizzard that appears out of nowhere. That’s their cover. The bastards are fast, once you see that, they’ll be almost on you. They will not succumb to blows the way people do, it’s gonna take at least half a dozen arrows to bring one down, two or three hits with a sword if you can get one on it’s own.’ His vision was flickering again.  
With tears falling, he made a last request.  
‘When i die, burn my body. Please. I don’t want to become one of them. Promise me milady.’  
‘I will. I’ll find your mother, and tell her you died bravely. What is your name?’  
‘Lucias Harwood. My mother is lady of a village between High Heart and the Red Fork. Thank you.’ And with that, he finally let go.  
Based on what Lucias had told her, she issued orders to the ranking officers and to her sister’s friends before heading off to her chambers. She had barely gone two steps before Arya called from above.  
‘Sansa! You need to see this!’  
She ran, taking the steps two at a time, until she reached the top of the wall, and Arya.  
‘Look. It’s what that rider warned us about.’  
And to her horror, a giant, unexplainable wall of snow was approaching fast.  
Winter had come


	2. The Northern Fire

Tormund, Beric and a small group of comprised of Men of the Watch, Wildlings and a couple of Northern locals who were dropping their miscreant children off at Eastwatch when the Wall fell, had been running along it’s remnants to Castle Black for three days. Below and behind them, the wight army had filed out of the breach, and while the center group were heading along the route of the Kingsroad, the left were sweeping the wall and the surrounding area. The rest of the Watch, and indeed the dozen or so small villages that lay between Castle Black and the west coast, needed to be warned. Their camp for that night was on a slightly wider stretch of Wall, probably where catapults had been stationed. Since the enchantments that had kept the Wall from melting at the normal rate had been broken, and the cold had not increased enough to chill the ice properly, Beric had made the decision not to light any fires. This meant being absolutely miserable, but not being seen by a wight horde and not drowning in the middle of the night. Which everyone agreed was better than a bit of cold. Tormund had drawn first watch, but when everyone else had fallen asleep, he had found himself unable to concentrate.   
‘How did it come to this?’ He thought ‘Why did we survive when everyone else fell? Is this our purpose? To survive while Westeros falls? To endure? Ah, that Beric’s getting to me with his Lord of Light bullshit. The Lord of Light didn’t intend for everyone to die in a blizzard, now did he ya twat?’  
‘Alright there?’  
‘Shit Beric! You’re supposed to be asleep!’  
‘Come off it. I can practically feel your negativity from here, you’re thinking so loud.’  
‘How can i be thinking loud?’  
‘A warrior learns to use his senses if he does not want to be the first dead. You’d think i’d be better at it considering i’ve died six times. But alas, no.’  
‘That can’t seriously be the only reason why you’re awake?’  
‘Correct. To be honest, i never actually fell asleep.’  
‘Why?’  
‘Like you, i worry about things. But in the end, the Lord of Light grants me reassurance and restores my faith.’  
‘Oh shut up with your Lord of Light crap already. Do you think he wanted hundreds of thousands of people to have undead breaking down their doors? For children to die in agony?’  
‘No. But that is not my point. Gods are gods, do they have to be present in this world, for good or for evil? I believe not. But they are manifest in one way. Tell me, how old were you when you first fought in battle?’  
‘Eleven. We were raided by another tribe. We won, but we had to leave. Otherwise the surviving women and children would have been killed.’  
‘Were you nervous?’  
‘Not until my axe landed in the first guy’s face. Then i thought, “Would mother like a stranger’s blood over the rushes?”.’  
‘Ah. Well i was fourteen. I offset the nerves by slowing down, focusing on a blade of grass. Then, the strength to pick up my sword and join the battle came to me. I believe that was whom i call the Lord of Light. When we are needy, the ability to keep going is always there. Without knowing it, we draw power from somewhere, and what else could have the power to do this and so many other incredible things than a god? Does it matter what you call him? If you like, you can see him as the god of tits and wine, as long as that power is there.’  
He drew his sword and ignited it.  
‘Look at the flames. Watch how they move, the patterns they form, how it is almost like water running down the blade. Look deeply, and Rh’illor may see fit to grant you a vision.’  
‘Bullshit.’  
‘Not at all my friend. The Hound was like you, you know. He looked into the fire and saw nothing at first, but after a while, he got a glimpse of how events would turn out. Look. You may find something that could help us.’  
So he looked. Nothing happened at first, but soon, he began to see things. Formless, timeless shadows. The outlines focused, and Tormund found himself in a fortress. The name came to him, unbidden and without any prior knowledge of it’s existence. Starfall. Around him, men were rushing, obviously panicked, weapons in hands. He walked down the passage, and out onto the battlements. It was horrific. The Army of the Dead were arrayed below, hurling themselves at the walls, climbing up on the corpses of defenders and assaulters alike, soldiers desperately hurling everything except their swords at them, to no avail. Then a keening noise came up. He knew that dreadful sound. The Dragon Queen, atop her last child, Rhaegar, was falling, the dragon pierced by an Ice Javelin of a kin to the one that brought down Viserion. They landed, dying a few seconds later. An agonised roar came from the throat of Jon Snow then. Time sped up. They were in the main hall. A line had been set up, keeping back the dead. Yet all present knew that they would not make it out alive. Suddenly, a pennant of icy-blue fire decimated a large stained glass window, through it, hordes of wight's came. The line collapsed, men were thrown down, ripped apart and burned alive as a second window got blown down. Last, they were in the room where the Sword of the Morning was kept when no man deserved the honour. Jon was on his knees before the Night King himself. A flash of light, a fountain of blood. Then void. And a voice.  
‘Victarion Greyjoy sails for King’s Landing. A storm will knock his part of the Iron Fleet off course and they will beach right near a fishing village south of the Wall. Take the men of the North, the Ironborn’s ships and go where your heart tells you, and this day shall never come to pass. Go now. The Others are coming.  
‘TORMUND! GET UP, GET UP NOW WE HAVE TO RUN! JOSUA, GET TERRANCE AND VICTARIA, AND RUN!’  
‘The bloody wights saw my sword, they’re scaling the Wall, we have to leave while we still can!’  
‘Beric, listen to me! I saw something in that fire. We have something we need to do on the coast, it could save Jon’s life-’  
‘We discuss this LATER!’  
With that, he and the last two Night’s Watchmen left the alcove and tore down the ice-trenches, leaving Tormund alone.   
‘Understood. You’re the bloody god-botherer here, you told me to look in the fuckin fire! Ah, better get along. There'll be no ale left at Castle Black soon enough.’  
He left, at walking pace, just as the wights reached the top of the staircase a few trenches back the other way.

Many miles south, an army marched. At it’s head, Jaime Lannister and Bronn, discussing tactics. Shortly after he left King’s Landing, Jaime had ridden to the commander he had sent to the Highgarden forces and ordered him to lift the siege on Casterly Rock, then to march North. The Iron Fleet had driven off the Targaryen’s, and Grey Worm refused to leave until the Lannister army left, in case it was a trap, or until his fleet was allowed back into shore. Still, one more army to man the Wall was better than one less. Bronn brought up the awkward issue of the Greyjoy captains, Euron and Victarion.  
‘Enlighten me. Why won’t Euron just let the Targaryen fleet pass? He gets to go do whatever it is pirates do, and we get to make an entrance when we get to Winterfell or wherever the hell it is we’re going.’  
‘He maintains the blockade because he is Cersei’s man. She leads him one with promises of marriage that i know she will never act on, and in return, she has the most dangerous naval force in Westeros under her thumb. I broke with Cersei, so Euron is now my enemy, which we both know. Besides, he doesn't need to do what pirates do. He has Victarion for that.’  
‘What do you mean? He is the Lord Captain, wouldn't he be back there with the fleet?’  
‘Euron ordered that the fleet be split in half. He put Victarion on one half and led the other himself. As far as i know, Victarion went to Mereen to try and take the Dragon Queen, ended up saving her, got quite a few of his ships sunk and buggered off somewhere. I’d hazard a guess that he’s restarted Euron’s old business, ferrying goods from the Free Cities to the west coast, and that he’s still waiting for Euron to send orders. Unaware that Euron probably doesn't care if he’s still alive.’  
‘His own brother. Harsh. Who else do we know who have that sort of sibling relationship?’  
‘Ha. That would be funny if i didn’t know the Cleganes. You should see what happened to Gregor, when he lost to Oberyn Martell, Cersei had him treated for Manticore venom. He’s alive, i’m just not sure what happened to him.’  
‘I didn’t mean them fool. I meant you and Tyrion.’  
‘What are you talking about?’  
‘Didn’t you two hate each other?’  
‘Well, yes. Particularly when Tyrion traveled to the side of a girl who wanted to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. But i suppose we are on the same side now.’  
‘Good. Having a Lannister on both sides of the argument involving dragons...well that is not a very good situation.’  
‘Quite. Ah, the scouts are back.’  
Sure enough, riders came out from four different directions, and converged on them.  
‘Report captain.’ Said Jaime  
‘Yes sir. All roads into the riverlands are clear. Permission to speak freely sir.’  
‘Granted.’  
‘I don’t like it. There is nothing out there, not even the birds. The local Houses might think we’re pushing North to invade, if they try and stop us, we will take casualties and we will then take longer to march. We need to take to the ocean.’  
‘If only we could. The Ironborn are being uncooperative, so our only option is to march. But i do not intend to waste lives in doing so. Go to the commander. Tell him to act as if we are making camp, erect a few rows of tents, light the fires. But send the cavalry and a detachment of men-at-arms around our right. He will know what to do from there. Go, now.’  
‘Yes sir!’  
Bronn spoke up, amused.  
‘Are you doing what Stannis did to those wildlings?’  
‘To be honest, that did not occur to me. Besides, that was a massacre. No, what i intend to do is bring any potential enemies out into the open. They will be given a chance to surrender. Only if they refuse will i draw my sword.’


	3. The Iron Fleet

On the deck of a ship, a man stood. The wind howled around them ,the sea was the roughest they had encountered since Robert’s Rebellion, wave after wave crashed over the bows, but still the man stood, hanging on with his real hand to a guide rope for dear life.   
‘Truely, this is why men took to the oceans. This is sailing.’ Victarion Grejoy thought, dressed in full plate and chain battle armour. One of his men, screamed at him, it was he only way he could make himself heard over the noise of the huge storm above them.  
‘YOU SHOULD GET BELOW SIR! IT’S NOT SAFE OUT HERE!’  
‘HOW IS IT UNSAFE!? A GREYJOY IS A KRACKEN, AND DOES HE DROWN?!’  
‘NO SIR, BUT THE KRACKEN CAN STILL BE HIT BY LIGHTNING!’  
‘WHAT IS DEAD MAY NEVER DIE SEAMAN! AND BELIVE ME, I DIED A LONG TIME AGO!’  
‘AYE SIR!’ Said the crewman, now subdued by the conortations of that statement.   
The Lord Captain watched him run off.   
‘Sniveling fool. Whilever i have a job to do, i will not fall. And if i do, the Drowned God will raise me above the waves and set me back on course. I will not die without making my brother pay for what he did. What he made me do.’  
The waves ahead grew to several dozen times the height of his ships, but they were so far in now, it made no difference. He looked back, saw one crash over two of the outer vessels. Heard the sound of rending timber, and the screams of his men, quickly drowned out by a huge clap of thunder and a flash of light. Thankfully, nothing important was on those ships. The Golden Company and a large amount of cargo from Mereen were in the hulks situated right in the middle of the fleet. They would be mostly safe there. Another flash, but this was different. The spotter echoed his thoughts.  
‘LAND HO SIR!’  
Seconds later, a bolt of lightning directly hit the crows nest, torturing the man in the breif moment before his death, and wrecking the topsail on the middle mast.  
‘LOWER SPINNAKER! GET UP THERE AND FIX THAT SAIL!’  
‘WE CAN’T SIR, WE’VE LOST A HALF DOZEN MEN ON THAT RIGGING TONIGHT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING SIR!?’  
‘WHAT YOU SHOULD BE! YOU’RE IRONBORN MAN, ARE YOU AFRAID TO GET A BIT WET?!’   
And with that, he began to climb the rigging himself. Hand over hand, ignoring the biting wind, the rain that had just started, making full battle armour a truely miserable thing to be in, and kept going. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he reached the topsail. The lightning had destroyed the crows nest and the mast underneath, but not quite down to the spars. All he had to do was somehow fix the rips in the sail and resecure it to the spars.   
‘Bits of rope…. That might do the trick.’  
Drawing his sword, Victarion cut free the now useless crows nest rigging and slung it over his shoulder. Next, he cut slits on either side of the main rips, threaded rope through them, and tied them off, all the while hanging on to the same sail. Lastly, he tied the sail back onto the spars. Easy. The real trouble started when he started to come back down. Because he was the only man brave enough to take the rigging, he saw it first. A wave the height of a small mountain, or so it seemed. Coming in from the right. If they took that the wrong way, half the fleet could be pulverised. They had to turn. Still hanging from the rigging, he shouted down orders.  
‘SIGNAL THE FLEET! TWO POINTS STARBOARD, NOW!’  
The Ironborn navies of long ago had invented a system of fire signals that could be easily understood by captains and seamen alike, and were easily visible, even in the most dangerous storms. The signal was acknowleged just as the ships began to rise on the swell created by the wave. They were almost at the top, about to come down the other side, when the unthinkable happened. The wave crested.   
‘BRACE!’  
The flagship and two others punched through, water pouring over the bows. No one else made it. The screams, the alarm bells rang through the night.  
‘My god. This is worse than the Rebellion.’  
The surviving ships came from the van of the fleet, because they were so far away, you almost could’nt see the lanterns on the deck. The leading three were alone. Victarion climbed down, shell-shocked for only the third time in his life. The only good news was that the storm appeared to be abating. Three of his men stood before him, all asking for orders.  
‘Sir, what do we do?’  
‘You’re smart arn’t you? Figure it out.’  
‘Sir the other ships are requesting orders, what do i send back?’  
‘Maintain course. We should reach Westeros in a few minutes. Now leave me be.’  
‘But sir-’  
‘THE NEXT MAN THAT SPEAKS GETS HIS HEAD CUT OFF! NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP!’   
With that, he headed below. He was barely concious of going into his cabin, stripping down to his mail surcoat, steel greaves and boots and sitting on the side of his bed. When rocks were sighted, and the crew above and on the other ships rushed around to try and avoid them, he simply didn’t care. And when he got thrown forward into a beam as the ship ran aground, he welcomed the abbys. 

Euron Greyjoy had a dillema. Do what Cersei wanted, and maintain the blockade, meaning the Targaryen forces in Casterly Rock had to stay put or march out. Or just do what felt like a good idea, which was directly attack the Targaryen fleet. His ships were far better quality with better crews, they would win. But there was every chance he could loose everything he had gained in the Lannister Court by doing so. Either way, his quarry was escaping him. The Lannister army holding the Unsullied in had marched off, leaving the garrison free to leave whenever they wanted. The fleet he was keeping out would eventually bugger off somewhere, maybe even land more troops at somewhere like Lannisport. It came down entirely, to what course of action gave the most benefit in the long run, what tactical advantage could be garnered by doing a certain thing. But royal favour does’nt pay the wages.  
‘Set sail after the Targ fleet!’  
‘Didn’t you just say-’  
‘I make the decisions around here...er….what the fucks your name again?’  
‘Josua sir!’  
‘See, now i remember why i forgot. It’s a fuckin pretencious shit name. Why do i even care?’  
‘No idea sir!’  
‘Simple answer, i don’t. I’m a king, i have better shit to loose sleep over.  
‘But you said-  
‘What did i say just then?’  
‘You don’t care, sir.’  
‘If in doubt, stick with that. Now go and do what i told you to do.’  
‘Aye sir.’  
‘No scratch that, get me an ale, then go do that, then you’re on spotter duty for wasting my time.’  
‘Wha-’  
‘MOVE IT!  
‘Poor fucker. Ah, i’m gettin a free ale out of it, what does it matter. Either way, they kill fools, get gold, spend it somewhere, while i delive a report to Cersei, stipulating that the Targs ran off. My boys are happy, i further my plans, and no Lannister need know.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, i ended that with Euron absolutely head-fucking some poor guy to death, because that sounds like Euron to me. Sorry about the wait, i've had a bit to be getting on with, but expect two chapters a week from here on in. Thanks for reading!


	4. The Many Oaths Of Jon Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, really sorry for the huge wait guys. If anyone's left who began this journey with me, i thank you for your infinite patience, if you're new, then welcome aboard, hope you enjoy, but please read from the start. This chapter is a little different from my usual writing style, if you liked the old way, please tell me before i get a new chapter down. Anyways, thanks again and happy reading.

A perplexing phenomena was taking place. For the past four days, they had met people on the road, stayed at various holdfasts. But since they had mobilized early that morning, they had not seen anyone on the road, or in the holdfasts. That, and that fact that the temperature had dropped again, made Jon greatly concerned. This is what had happened on that fateful trip Beyond The Wall when Viserion had fallen, almost to the letter. But that would have to mean, whenever Tyrion liked it or not, that something had happened to the Wall. His last remaining family members might be in danger. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, when once again, Daenerys spoke up.  
‘Peace Jon. Why are you so anxious? Are these not the lands of your father’s House?’  
‘It’s not that. The Boltons are no longer a threat. It’s just...Have you noticed the changes? It’s colder than it’s ever been. We’ve seen absolutely no one, heard not even a bird. I know how this story ends, and it’s not healthy for us.’  
‘You forget, so do i. I have noticed the changes, but it is pointless to spend too much time worrying. Relax, until something gives us a reason to panic.’

They camped for the night in a clearing by the side of the road, protected from the wind by a thick wall of trees on three sides. Once Jon set a guard on the entrance to the clearing and a watch for the rest of the camp, he went to Tyrion once again. He found him leaning on a rock speedreading the same book as before, covered by a thick woolen blanket, and for probably the first time ever, he did not have a bottle of anything in his hands. Jon knew something was up with him.  
‘I see you’re sober.’  
‘I see you’re still thicker than four house bricks.’  
‘Ha. How’ve you been getting along?’  
‘Quite fine, until i read a certain passage in this old thing.’ He said, holding up the book.  
‘What does it say that concerns you?’  
‘The passage itself goes on for quite a while, but to summarise, it says that the Wall has, over the years, shown certain weaknesses. I am flicking through to see if it says any more about them, if it does, then your concerns might well be vindicated.’  
‘That is not news i wanted to hear.’  
‘Nor i, but now we know, we need to find out whether or not it is better to turn and run while we still can, or continue to Winterfell.’  
‘I will not leave my family to be turned into Wights Tyrion. And if they already are, then i want to be the one who gives them peace.’  
‘Let us turn from such macabre thoughts for now. I still havent found out what those weaknesses are. For all we know, the author could have been opposed to the Lord Commander of his time, and could be referring to him as the weakness. The Castle Black Maesters are generally the ones who update these annals, and similar disputes have occured before, as you know. It is a possibility, and we cannot discount it.’  
‘You are right. Is there anything i can do to help?’  
‘Yes actually. I have another of these, compiled by a later Maester, it’s the newer looking one sitting over there. Grab it, sit down and turn to page seven thousand eight hundred and eighty nine, section four. Read as fast as you can, there‘s a bit to get through.’  
Jon did as Tyrion asked, and for the next two hours, they sat in silence, reading. Every now and then, one of them would find something interesting, but every time, it turned out to be a dud. Then, Tyrion found something.  
‘Jon, listen to this one. “Over the years, the Wall was reenforced against most pheasable magical and physical assaults. However, the ancient and primal forces that reside in some parts of the world are, and always have been, capable of breaching the defence. Fortunately, most of these same forces are on the decline, due in part to past exploitation and misuse that have left some of these eldrictch creatures both wary and volatile.” Now what ancient and primal force do you know of that might now be being used to destroy the Wall?’  
‘The dragon we lost Beyond the Wall. Viserion.’  
‘How do you-’  
‘Daenerys.’  
‘Ah. Well it appears you might be right. If the Night King has indeed reserectted Viserion, then the Wall might already be down.’  
‘Meaning?’  
‘We’re probably in enemy territory now. And if we can’t get to our forces fast enough, all of Westeros will follow.’  
Just as Jon was about to get up and run to Daenerys’s tent, a sentry came bolting from the clearing opening.  
‘Sir, a party of travelers noticed our banners and damn near bowled us over trying to get in here! They claim to be from Winterfell.’  
‘Let them in, immediately!’

Sansa sat by the fire, covered in blankets, holding a goblet of something, she didn’t know what nor did she really care. There was little that truely mattered anymore. Jon was saying something, but even though he was seated next to her, she found understanding him rather difficult. With an immense effort, she pushed through the mental fog, and tuned in to the conversation.  
‘-ear me Sansa? Is this all that remains of our people?’  
‘There were others who escaped, but we have not heard anything from them. For all we know, they could all be dead, our sister among them. Why have you not said anything about her? Do you even care?’  
Jon’s eyes flashed dangerously.  
‘Don’t even suggest that! I want her to be alive, she’s the only thing that proves i’m still the same person as before. But almost everyone i wish were alive have been dead for a while. I feel guilty, because i should have been there for her, for both of you. But i feel guilty because i was not there for father, or Robb, or Rickon. And they’re all dead. Seeing a pattern here?’  
‘You forgot Bran.’   
Jon was stunned. He had always harboured hope that Bran had survived.   
‘How?’  
‘When the dead came, i went up to the Godswood to get him out before we were overrun. Arya had gone to evacuate the wider city, no one was prepared for the attack, but i did not meet a soul going through the castle. He’d warned them, you know. He’d known what was coming and told anyone who would listen to leave. He told me to run and i asked him why and he said: “The King is coming. He will kill you if you stay here. I will keep him busy for a while.” I asked him what he was on about and told him he was coming with me, but he wouldn’t have it. “The duty of facing him is passed to me.” he said, ”though i do not possess the power to stop him. Flee via the east road, he will be expecting refugees to take the direct route away from here, not the oblique way. It will take you within a league of his army, but you will escape. He approaches, i can feel it. You must run, now.” That was the last thing he ever said. I looked back at the edge of the Godswood, and he’d been knocked out of his chair. And then this creature, this living shard of ice looked at me. Like it knew i was there the whole time. It didn’t take it’s horrible, piercing, souless blue eyes off me while it killed Bran.’ She finished, entirely consumed by grief.

Jon knew exactly what she had seen, for there was not another like him in Westeros, or indeed anywhere else. The same nightmare that had haunted the minds of every Stark for thousands of years, this dealer of unparalleled death and destruction who had come within a hair’s breadth of killing him at Hardhome. It still hit him though, to learn that the brother he thought long dead had survived, only to be killed by the Night King himself. And that he could have easily killed Sansa too, but had chosen merely to toy with her. 

A fell mood gripped Jon. He drew Sansa close, tears streaming down his own face, right hand on the hilt of his sword, and his words rang with a mixture of steely determination and inorexable fate.  
‘This Night King has come, taken our home, and murdered our brother and our people. But he will not go unpunished. He will fall to my sword for what he has done, i swear it. Winter has come, for good or for ill. But i will see in the Spring.’


	5. The Hidden Hope

The day after the night attack by Wights, Tormund, Beric and the others finally came within sight of Castle Black, due mostly to the terrific pace Beric demanded they set in order to put distance between them and their supernatural pursuers. From the top of the Wall, it was almost impossible to tell if there was anyone living below, but hopes were still high. After all, most of the Night’s Watch had been stationed there, and the castle was not in any of the direct lines of assault the Army of the Dead had chosen to take. Those hopes plummeted when the gears for the lift did not begin moving at the appropriate time after one of the men pulled the signal rope. Upon their arrival on the ground, it became apparent their worst fears had been realized. The main gate had been torn open and leaned against the gatehouse, half off it’s hinges. Sections of chainmail and a few plate armour pieces were scattered across the courtyard, without exception, all of them were rent and bloodied. Swords, bows and even spears still lay where they had been thrown down in terror by their owners. Tormund had even discovered, to his horror, that the layer of snow half an inch down was a deep crimson. Reinforcements had come down from the Wall upon hearing the warning signals, and run headlong into the Wights that had broken the gate. If similar fights had occured throughout the rest of the castle, then there was no possibility of any survivors. But perhaps the most concerning thing of all; there was evidence of a violent, desperate fight for survival, but absolutely no bodies. Meaning that they had been turned, and possibly that there were Wights inside the castle. Based on this theory, they all agreed to set up camp in one of the nearby guardhouses rather than seek a more comfortable abode. They had spent the better part of the day fortifying and collecting what meager supplies were available in the outermost ring. They had then used the past three to send small scout parties along the Wall and out to nearby holdfasts to check for anyone who may have been missed by the tide of destruction. They did not find another soul. 

On the fourth, Beric noted supplies were low again. They’d already taken anything that could be used from the immediate area, even down to the weeds. There was only one way forward.  
‘Lads, come together.’  
They formed a circle around him.  
‘We have problems. Namely, our food is almost out. Without food, we will die here in less than a day. Therefore, i have resolved to go alone into the deeper castle to try and find more.’  
The only response was an loud, indignant outcry from every single one of the men, Tormund especially included.  
‘Have you gone stark-raving mad Beric? If there are Wights in there, which is likely, you’ll be killed in seconds, and i think i can speak for all of us when i say that is not a good thing!’  
‘Hardly. Death is but a part of life, one even the deathless must eventually take. Doesn’t The Stranger demand it in your faith?’  
At this, everyone fell silent. No one mentioned the fey seventh god if they could help it, aside from prayers to him, mainly from fear that he would come for them if they did.   
‘Then it is decided. I will go, and if i am mistaken, and there are indeed Wights, then i will try and make it back. In whatever way possible.’  
And on that macabre announcement, Beric set out, before any could stop him.  
After several hours of searching through the rest of Castle Black, Beric stood in front of the doors to the keep. He’d noted on the first couple of passes that the doors were still mostly intact. Granted, they were open, but they had not been rent apart like the main gate. Still, he had no way of knowing weather or not he’d come out alive if he went in.

‘I’m not sure about this.’  
‘What is there to be unsure about? You might die, you might keep Tormund and the others alive till we can formulate a plan. It’s simple.’  
‘Yes, the reward is high, but for the first time since… well i can’t actually remember, but for the first time in a while anyway, i have a need to fear death.’  
‘Why? If you die, you will stay dead, but why fear that? There are many worse fates in the land of the living.’  
‘Correct. But facing the black abyss is still no easy task, however you put it.’  
‘Have you forgotten about your sword again? Light it, let the dark know that you are the mightiest servant of Rh’illor, and none shall bar your way.’  
He crossed the threshold, sword lit like a small sun in his tightly clenched fist, eyes closed and tensing, waiting for the icy stroke of doom that would finally finish what had been started so many years before. It never came. Beric reopened his eyes, feeling mixed parts dissapointed and profoundly stupid.  
‘Right. Let’s just pretend that never happened.’  
‘I concur. But let’s not dwell on things, we have a job to do.’

He walked through the antechamber he was in. Signs of a small struggle, no bodies as before, but interestingly, it appeared that the Watchmen had succeeded in fighting back the Wights. The thick layer of ash covering the floor and every wall all but confirmed this. An impossible theory rose. What if the people who fought off this attack had managed to not just keep it up, but entrench themselves so deeply that the whole siege had been called off? It stretched credulity just a bit too much, but every thing he’d seen in this room pointed heavily towards it. Using the sword as a torch lest he trip on an unseen object, Beric set off at a run, calling through the halls as he did so. Minutes passed, nothing happened. Just as he was about to give up in frustration, a tiny glint of reflected light caught his attention. On closer inspection, it turned out to be the shattered remains of a dagger. Almost inconsequential, save that none of the pieces appeared to have been damaged by the inferno that had clearly raged in the keep’s ground floor. 

‘You know what this means. It’s a sign, a marker for someone living.’  
‘Just small enough to be easily missed, but blindingly obvious if you knew what to look for.’  
‘Correct. But a marker for what?’  
‘We’ll soon see. Check everything in this immediate area, this cannot just be a coincidence.’

Just as he was about to rise in order to look at the wall behind the shards, he heard a nigh inaudible scuffle of boots on stone, and saw too late, the shadow of an unknown figure poised to strike. Putting the sword down hadn’t been such a wise idea after all. He tried to turn and face the assailant, but had his legs swept out from under him, then a short, sharp pain in the back of his head and then… nothing.

The first thing Beric noticed about wherever the hell he ended up, was that it was very well lit. The second, it smelled oddly of blood and sweat. In the distance, the sound of a man saying something, followed by a roar of laughter. In his immediate area however, there was nothing to give him any reason to suspect he was not totally alone. Then the rest of his body reawakened and an intense, throbbing pain washed over him, emanating from the back of his head, where he had been struck. Groaning, he sat up, and to his surprise, was greeted.  
‘Dondarrion. I’m surprised you’re still alive. You were at Eastwatch i believe?’  
‘Who...What...Where…?’  
‘You are addressing the nine hundred and ninety ninth Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, Eddison Tollet. You are currently in a set of catacombs below Castle Black. As for what, i’m afraid one of my sentries was a little, say, overzealous in his duties. He didn’t know who or indeed, what you were, and you were nearing the entrance, so he decided to take you into custody. He was disciplined the moment we ascertained who you were.’  
‘Overzealous?! He nearly caved my fuckin head in!’  
‘Like i said, he has been disciplined. Most severely. But, onto more pressing matters. You were at Eastwatch were you not?’  
‘Aye, i was.’  
‘How did you make it out alive? I had a rider from Winterfell tell me that only one man was known to have escaped, and he died of his wounds upon arrival there.’  
‘It was mostly down to Tormund. He was able to figure out that was one battle we could not win with the number of men that was available, while most everyone, even myself, were still in shock from the arrival of the dragon.’  
‘A dragon? So the rider was right?’  
‘He was. One of the brood of Daenerys Stormborn, Viserion i believe. I remember watching him fall, slain by the Night King himself. I thought that while we had lost a great asset, we had also denied him the very same, after all, the same eldritch forces that create Wights surely could not work on a dragon? I was disastrously wrong. It seems that as long as the being in question is dead, he can find a way to raise it.’  
‘Stranger take me.’ Said The Lord Commander, awed and for the first time since Jon left the Night’s Watch, scared.  
Ignoring the oath, Beric continued.  
‘Even with Tormund’s warning, we only just managed to gain enough distance before the bit of the Wall we were on collapsed. Once we got Tormund back on his feet, we legged it down here, so i have no idea if there were other survivors, but at a guess, i’d say not. If what we saw in the outer level here is anything to go by, then the Night King was very thorough.’  
‘I concur. He was most precise. Lost half my men even before i took the field. No doubt he believes there is no one left with enough strength to face him.’  
‘There isn’t.’  
‘What do you mean?’  
‘I only have about two dozen, maybe a few more. Combine that with your forces, which are by your own admission halved in strength, and we don’t get very much. Nowhere near enough to be meaningful in any sense.’  
‘Blast it Dondarrion!’ Said Eddison, pacing furiously. ‘This just serves to complicate matters. We cannot stay here, the supplies are too low for that, but neither can we leave without immediately attracting the attention of every Wight from here to Winterfell!’  
‘Ah, but that is where you are wrong.’  
‘Why then, do tell me how that is Gravewalker.’  
‘Tormund communed with Rh’illor himself. He saw what doom befell us if we stayed North. To put it simply, it ends. All of what we know falls before the Army of the Dead like chaff in the wind.’  
‘So then how am i wrong?’  
‘Rh’illor also told him how to prevent that fate. Somewhere on the east coast, a storm washed the Iron Fleet onshore. If we can gather up enough men to neutralise the Ironborn crewers, we can take the ships and sail South, help Jon.’  
‘But that’s precisely the point; we don’t have enough men to do everything that needs to be done in order to survive here, never mind attack a group of skilled warriors with the threat of Wights coming down on our heads every step of the way! It cannot be done.’  
‘Yes it can. Rh’illor never once said exactly where the fleet grounded, just that it was a small town or village south of the Wall. The Army of the Dead relies on speed and stealth to complete its objectives, otherwise our forces could probably hold their ground fairly well. It’s why they hunted down and killed most of your men, to retain the element of surprise. But, while annihilating the countryside is a thing they are good at, ensuring all their enemies are dead and converted is another thing entirely. All a man would have to do is break direct line of sight with the Wights, and he could escape them.’  
‘So if we scoured all the holdfasts that dot the North, we’d find people who hid and recruit them for this plan of yours?’  
‘Precisely.’  
Edd began to pace, thinking as he went. There was an inherent risk involved with this plan, particularly; if any part of it went wrong, the lives of the last fourty Night’s Watchmen would be in mortal peril. If, by sheer, incomprehensible luck, everything went perfectly, then the course of history would be altered forever, and all Westeros saved. So much to gamble. After all, they could easily just sail over to Essos, Night King be damned and leave the Seven Kingdoms their fate. Images, fragments of the past came to the forefront of his mind. Of his childhood as a scion of one of the weakest houses in the entire North. Of Pyp, and Grenn, and all the others who fell at Craster’s Keep. And that was when he decided.   
‘The Wildlings killed them. But they wouldn’t have had a need to if the White Walkers hadn’t decided to mobilise. They are the real monsters here. And if it is within my power, i will ensure that every last one is annihilated.’ He thought. And then he spoke.  
‘Let’s fuckin do this shit. When were you planning on leaving?’  
‘As soon as you can get your men organised.’  
‘Alright. I’ll rouse them now, just warning you, they’re not going to be terribly supportive of this. We may have deserters.’  
‘They’re your men. Therefore, that’s your problem. Valar Morghulis.’   
And with that, Beric spun around and left at a considerable pace, leaving Edd saying ‘Valar Dohaeris’ to an empty room.

Twenty minutes later, both parties were gathered at the main gate. When Beric gave the order to march, three men refused to get up. Dondarrion simply drew his sword. One brave soul ignored the obvious threat and flew to his feet, but before he could so much as utter the rebellious words he was forming in his head, he copped the flat of the blade to the face. Raising his voice, Beric spoke.  
‘You’re lucky. I will not tolerate insubordination on this matter, because i cannot afford to kill any of you. But heed this. Stay here, you will die. Go it alone, you will die. Come with us, and you may yet live. Now, for the Lord of Light, for the King in the North and for the hope of a Dawn, FOLLOW ME!  
And so, the Night’s Watch began her last ranging. Totally unaware of the much larger force making its way towards them on the other side of the Wall, burning heart banners flapping in the wind. Stannis Baratheon had come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping you guys aren't real bad cliffhanger haters, cause this is probably going to be the biggest for this whole half of the novel. Don't worry, the Stannis POV will more than make up for it. Not going to reveal too much here, but there will be another Greyjoy chapter after Stannis's intro and there might even be a Targaryen POV after that. Up to you to guess which one. As always, please tell me how you're feeling about the fic thus far, any commentary is welcome, and i'll see you Beyond the Wall.
> 
> PS: Feel i should explain a bit, sometimes when a character is alone, they will monologue with themselves, in the draft, those bits are in italics, but i haven't been able to work that into the finished chapters yet, may need some advice on that actually.


End file.
